


Want Of All

by MercuryMapleKey



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Amputation, Cauterization, M/M, Manipulation, Obsession, Psychological Torture, Rape, Shockwave Syndrome, Spark Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryMapleKey/pseuds/MercuryMapleKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the spacebridge nexus Shockwave faces Blurr for the first time, and fights Longarm for his last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want Of All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hambone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/gifts).



> I wrote this fic because it's Hamfootsia's birthday! And I won't lie I got more than a little bit carried away with this one. The entire thing was prompted by a single line in a different fic that I was writing in January but dropped temporarily. So you know, that's fun.

The disappearance of Megatron was ill timed and unfortunate, and had left Shockwave alone on a Cybertron ready for the taking with a team from Earth that could expose him at any moment. It wasn’t an ideal situation. They had been close, closer than they had been in more millennia than Shockwave cared to admit, but even the best laid plans had a habit of going awry at the least fortuitous of moments. It seemed the Autobots would be retaining their miserable hold on Cybertron for a while longer yet.

Admittedly it had taken Shockwave a few kliks to compose himself. Experience was something he had in spades, but thousands of stellar cycles under a monotone cover was tiresome and not without its frustration. Longarm was exactly what Command was looking for in a high ranking official, intelligent and obedient, professional and personable, he had neither too loud a personality to warrant himself as a problem nor too little free time to devote himself fully to the ‘Autobot cause’. By all means he had been a perfectly attractive persona to play, and Shockwave had grown to hate him. Still, Longarm had not outlived his usefulness yet and Shockwave would not be returning empty-handed, not for himself or Lord Megatron. He stretched his back – fully – for the first time in what felt like a decivorn and made his way through the corridors of the spacebridge nexus. Iacon would be on lockdown for the next few megacycles at the least; Shockwave had a loose end to tie up, in the form of a stray agent.

Blurr had been a surprise, both in his hasty return to Cybertron and with regards to just how deep his infatuation with Shockwave’s persona went. Obsession, would have been a more precise word to put to it, adoration and devotion that shone true of his addiction towards him. Shockwave had watched Blurr as closely as he had with all of the agents directly under his employ, and then a little closer. He’d seen Blurr gasp for him, moan for him, he’d watched him awake in the early hours of the morning making fanciful plans he knew would never come to pass, and smiling over his shoulder as if he had someone in which to share in when in fact he did not. He’d heard Longarm’s name so many times across pale white lips, spoke reverent like a prayer. Blurr had few friends if any, and a dedication to his job that prevented him from making any; instead he had filled his world with Longarm. It was terribly maladaptive. Shockwave had found the self-destruction positively mesmerizing, and not something he was above using to his advantage.

Of course he hadn’t crushed Blurr entirely within the tunnels, merely enough to incapacitate the tiny speedster. Blurr was beautiful, and fairly capable for his kind, there’d be no advantage to eliminating him. But to have him alive and fully committed to him… there were few things Shockwave desired more. Slowly he had made his way down the maze of hallways that made up the interior nexus, stopping at the solid grey partition he’d trapped Blurr behind. It took only a few seconds to activate the manual release that pulled the wall away, and less time than that still for Blurr to fall to the ground with a dull thud; broken, bloodied, and already in a pool of his own energon. The scent of it as it smeared and puddled across the floor was nearly intoxicating, beautiful, unique, and fresh as the rest of him.

Immediately Blurr’s helm sprang up to gauge his surroundings. He was confused, hurt, terrified, and as he looked upon Shockwave as he was for the first time his spark stopped cold.

In a fraction of a nanoklik his optics blew wide. He threw the more intact of his two servos under his chestplating and pushed himself to his pedes, he tried to bolt. It was a foolish mistake. As soon as he put the weight on it Blurr’s left leg crumpled beneath him, the squeal of twisting metal and snapping mesh drowned only be the shriek that ripped out of Blurr’s vocaliser as they went. He hadn’t made it more than two steps.

Shockwave watched the little bot curl in on himself with interest. Blurr was in pain, heaving heavy vents into fractured kneepads. It wasn’t the first time Shockwave had seen him so exerted, but it was exciting nonetheless. Shockwave reached a servo out to collect his prize and nearly had it truncated by the swing of Blurr’s energy saw. Nearly.

“Decepticon.” Blurr’s optics spat fire. Upon closer inspection Shockwave could see that one had been cracked quite thoroughly. “You’re the one, the one who’s been relaying messages to Megatron to build his spacebridge, and the one who designed to have one of Cybtertron’s best spacebridge technicians kidnapped – I know, I heard everything!” Even as he brandished his weapon he was moving, pushing himself around the Decepticon with his working leg and the mangled remains of his opposite arm. Anger could not hide the pain that laced every word he spoke and Shockwave briefly considered the value of recording their transgression. How many mechs had he seen in Blurr’s position before? Fighting for the opportunity to merely run away.

“You always were one of my better agents, Blurr. I dare say you would have figured out everything had you not been so blinded in your emotion.”

He could see Blurr struggling with it, a falter through his frame so indicative of the experience he’d never had the time to gain.

“What are you talking about?” Blurr failed to keep himself moving and that was his first mistake. “What did you do to Longarm Prime – the _real_ Longarm Prime – I know you’ve got him somewhere!”

And there was the second.

It was not a difficult thing to alter his vocaliser from the register of his own voice to that of Longarm’s, even if it displeased him to have to do so. When Shockwave spoke it was as his persona, as two dimensional as he’d ever been. “Why Agent Blurr, I think we both know the answer to that question.”

Blurr jolted backwards as if he had been slapped, Shockwave knocked the saw out of his servo and had him pinned against the wall by his claws within the instant. The force of his sent energon spattering against the wall in a viscous spray as Blurr hit it; both a promise and a threat.

“Shapeshifter! You’re a shapeshifter!” If Blurr had maintained the hard trained strength of a soldier before, it was nothing compared to the wild fear of a caged animal as he found himself now. He writhed and wailed, shook and flailed, fighting in vain to land a blow that would damage against his captor and shouting at him all the while. “You took on the form of Longarm at the bridges to fool me, you’ve been switching forms with over half of the bots in command! That’s why we haven’t been able to find you, that’s why you’ve been able to stay under the radar for so long, you’ve been shapeshifting, you never stopped moving for an instant!”

Well not that was an interesting refraction of reality. The filament slit of Shockwave’s optic focused sharply as he gazed upon Blurr trapped prone beneath his massive servo. Two claws on either side of scuffed and dented blue shoulders, a third firm between the speedster’s slim legs as he squirmed against it – he needed to be closer. He needed to see every fraction of expression that crossed Blurr’s faceplates, every fold and groove of his bent frame.

Shockwave came forward and Blurr only fought harder. “Is that what you believe?” His voice had returned to its normal pitch, quiet and cultured. “That Longarm Prime is back in the Metroplex waiting for you?” Blurr bared his flat denta in a snarl and Shockwave loomed over him utterly entranced. “Is this the depth of your love for him?” 

“A Con like you would never know.” Blurr bit out both hate and fear; how misplaced he was in his aggression. Shockwave traced a talon down the pale protoform of Blurr’s faceplates and felt his old spark sigh.

“Oh Blurr, I won’t let you be disappointed.” It was a promise heavy and solid. Blurr didn’t take the time to appreciate it, only gasping and surging against the claws that pinned him once more as whirring fans worked hard to cool his overtaxed frame. He had suffered a lot of damage to the security features of the nexus, with the left side of body bearing the brunt of it. Adrenaline and anger would not be enough to prevent Blurr from bleeding out against the reinforced walls. With a practiced patience Shockwave ran a claw along a broken leg steam, digging out a spray of sparks. “We’ll have to cauterize those.”

“What?!” Blurr looked up at him then, with optics full and wide and frightened. Truly panicked, he found himself slipping further down Shockwave’s claws and into his grasp. He couldn’t think to move correctly, he couldn’t see to aim precisely, through no stroke but luck Blurr’s good leg found purchase with the underside of Shockwave’s wrist. He kicked it hard in rapid succession and didn’t let up for an instant.

Shockwave hissed and nearly dropped him, reeling back in time to pinch his lean thigh between two sharp digits. “I believe we’ll start with this one.”

“Let me go, let me go, let me go!” He kicked his legs wildly, frantic for their release.

There was little use in the action. Shockwave squeezed the twitching limb between his digits, sharp curved of his claws finding their place against the hairline transformation seams midway down his thigh. He charged a current through his servo and Blurr fought against him in earnest, protesting only louder, faster, as he felt the claws that pinched his leg begin to heat. Typically the manipulation of current through his servos was an adaptation used in programming and setting fine circuitry within a mech’s processor, but the added ability saw its function in much cruder applications as well. By the time Shockwave’s talons had reached a dull red glow Blurr was howling in pain, fanblades stuttering and catching as they fought tirelessly to cool his frame again. It would have been cruel to prolong his suffering.

It took only a hard pinch to slice through black protoform cleanly. Shockwave cut through Blurr’s leg like a hot iron through solder, melting and sealing the wound as he went with the sizzle of fraying circuitry and thick wisps of heavy smoke. When he pulled his servo back the rest of Blurr’s limb came with him, plucked clean from his body and still twitching with the last vestigial remnants of the current that had coursed through now deadening circuitry.

Blurr spluttered; he choked, watching through terror stricken optics as his leg pulled as way like it had never been a part of him to begin with. His spark was a tangible presence behind his chestplates. It fluttered and clenched in wild measure against the cool of Shockwave’s servo lodged against it. Blurr shuddered against him. Warm and wet, coolant ran down his cheeks in fat trails and his helm jerked in sporadic shakes as he tried to speak. “Y-y-y-yo-you-y—“his vocaliser stuttered with the rest of him, shocked and stalled.

Was it so easy to smother the fire in him? Placing the amputated leg on the ground with utmost care Shockwave crooned for his intended. “You would have damaged it anyways Blurr.” He caught the speedster’s remaining leg, slightly higher than the last – Blurr had done a wonderful job of thoroughly destroying this one – and with a tight squeeze sliced through it as smoothly as he had the last.

It was over soon enough, leaving only the thick permeating smell of seared alloy and circuitry, and Blurr’s shuddering whimpers as he tried in vain to adjust to his situation. Shockwave could only pet the little thing’s helm with the blunt of his servo while his claws cooled; Blurr was lucky he hadn’t broken the major fuel lines in his arm. The shock of a third removal would very well have knocked him into stasis. A boon. His performance had been more than Shockwave had expected of him.

“Autobots these days are far too young for the situation you’ve found yourselves in.” Shockwave’s voice was a soothing murmur as he leant comfort to his little Autobot, Blurr shivered and twisted his helm away from the touch, brought back from the fog of surrealism he had hid himself in. So small. So easily twisted. “You’re not built for war.”

It was no more honest an appraisal than it had been the first time the Autobots had fought to upheave it. Blurr stuttered once more but his vocaliser leant him no power. He shook visibly, both pushing and pulling against the broad of Shockwave’s servo as he clenched and unclenched his own tiny white digits against it. “You…” When he did find the strength to push through his words once more it was with his jaw set hard and his optics downturned. “You have no idea what I was built for.”

An Autobot’s greatest strength was their delusional commitment to their roles, he had seen it one too many times for it to come as any great surprise of will. Shockwave watched in amusement and Blurr pulled that Autobot courage and old romance of strength in loyalty from within himself, he admired the spray of sparks that scattered from his cracked optic.

Gently he admonished his agent. “Of course I do Blurr. Even matters of the ministry saw their place on my desk. Over half of all the bots under the Elite Guard got there by matter of their experimental standing.”

“You didn’t learn that from Longarm.” The claim came with conviction, even as Blurr’s voice faded through static in his debility. Shockwave nuzzled the crest on Blurr’s helm and told him no lies.

“You are correct, I would have learned that from Perceptor. How long are you going to keep telling yourself these lies?” He wouldn’t let Blurr live in denial forever, not when the little bot smelled so alive and real. And not when the mech he’d let himself become so obsessed over was nothing but a re-hashed parody of Autobot ideals wrapped in a dismally unassuming package. “I am Longarm, Blurr, or rather he is an extension of me and I intend to prove it to you.”

How? He could see the question flicker through blue optics, before they set hard in stubborn defiance. “You can’t prove it to me! You never will, I’d rather be brought offline now than to live one nanoklik believe that Longarm Prime could ever be capable of committing such—What are you doing?!” Blurr cut himself off as he was dragged forcibly upwards, backshield scraping against the wall behind him in a shrill squeak. They were face to face now, nearly, and in a final push forward Shockwave was against him, is grey and teal servo the only barrier between both of their chests.

“Oh Blurr, I’m afraid you’ll live to regret those words.”

His optics filtered a light so dark Blurr could see his own faltering expression in the red light. The question was a breath of air: “What?”

It was simple, really. “I’m past the age of playing games, little one. If direct proof is what you need, then it’s what I will provide.” Shockwave wasted no time. Quickly twisting his wrist he adopted a new hold on Blurr, sticking him fast to the wall by his shoulders alone. His free claw dug into the seam along the bottom of Blurr’s windshield and popped it open with a tug, heedless of the fractured lines the motion had etched into the glass. Immediately the bright blue light of a pale spark bathed the both of them, and Blurr scrambled to get his servos underneath Shockwave’s; to protect himself. He was shouting again.

 “No, no no no! Stop!”

The inner sparkcasing went next, peeled away like nothing but tin foil; Blurr couldn’t even wince in pain for the fear of his own death.

“Stop, stop it! You can’t do this—Please!”

Tiny damaged servos pushed against broad digits he could never hope to budge, desperate to cover his life force – open, and flaring, and vulnerable. Shockwave retracted his own sparkcasing and pulls his servo free between them, forcing their chestplates together and their sparks crashing into a merge.

It began like being sucked into a vacuum. A pure out of body sensation that knocked his optics offline and sensorimotor circuits out of alignment; it began with the overwhelming maelstrom of Blurr’s fear. Suffocating and alive, it burned and pulsed in time with the flurry of Blurr’s spark. Shockwave could smell it, feel it, grasp it, never before had he experienced a terror so pure. He welcomed it. And with it Blurr came tumbling into his grasp, spark echoing the emotions behind it – anger, confusion, betrayal; the phantom sensation of limbs they both knew were lost, and the searing fire that still accompanied them. Shockwave moaned, curling around Blurr until he encompassed him entirely. Outside of their union he heard the speedsters high reedy whining as Blurr was filled in turn by the charge of his steady beating spark.

Blurr had no experience and no defenses here, Autobots of the current era were hardly even aware that one’s spark could merge at all. But still the rapid-fire rate of his fleeting thoughts and earnest emotions were unignorable. Shockwave could have let himself drown in it, consuming the spark of Blurr’s soul until he had engulfed the little bot entirely, until they both collapsed under the strain of their strength. It was the only form of bliss Shockwave cared to know, and still it could not last forever – not this time. As always, temperance was required.

He had something he needed Blurr to understand.

Within his own frame Shockwave plucked files from his databanks, a lifetime of names, schematics, promotions, from the moment Longarm’s identity had been constructed to the minute Blurr had crashed helm over pede in front of him so shortly ago. He passed them to Blurr, proof not even delusion could deny, and laced with his desire and demand.

Their unison shook, Blurr broke around him, and all at once agony clouded over every resonating chord in their merge and engulfed them both; Blurr’s own. It filled Shockwave with a charge that lacerated, a whip against open spark, but still he sought for more. Pushing deeper into Blurr’s core and pulling him out like dregs to the surface. The truth was not something Shockwave had the means nor desire to change, he only required his own to accept it.

For there was arousal. Viscous and heavy and indiscriminate of how he was taken as long as it was by the hand of the mech he had lost himself to. This was the extent of Blurr’s devotion. Present and immoveable, even in the wake of his loss. Captivating as it was contagious. Shockwave focused on it, there was nothing else on which to focus. He pushed his spark through Blurr’s and echoed it, groaning, as pain mixed and blended hot with pleasure. Obsession, intensity, Shockwave fed it to Blurr until the Autobot was screaming and thrashing inside him, sick with his own overload and still begging for another. He felt it all.

True to the nature of sparkmerges it was never over quickly, but in time it did end and Shockwave was left within his own frame once more with the burn of Blurr’s tiny spark still fresh against his own. A reminder of what they had shared.

It was Blurr’s muffled sob that again alerted Shockwave to the physical presence of his agent, trapped underneath him still and hanging lifelessly along Shockwave’s claws. He was beautiful in his exhaustion, surrendered and numb, like nothing but painted doll in his hold. A fresh bout of coolant streaked down from Blurr’s flickering optics, but Shockwave couldn’t recall if he had gotten the opportunity to feel them as well.

“Are you convinced, little one?”

Blurr said nothing. Shockwave was neither surprised nor offput by it. He pulled Blurr from the wall to cradle in his arm in a gentle way and marvelled at how easily the Autobot fit against his frame, how much smaller Blurr had become without the avail of his exceptional legs. “You look so tiny this way.” Shockwave’s voice rasped and threatened a cough.

Blurr looked ahead with dead optics, weary and worn as if he’d aged the span of the war within the megacycle. It was very well possible. Shockwave soothed the sharp edges of his claws along the slender lines of Blurr’s frame, but there was no reaction. Blurr had no more to give. He saw nothing and felt entirely too much, but the whispered rush that ghosted through his lips in a slurred repetition could not be missed: “I’ll never forgive you, I’ll never forgive you, I’ll…”

“Oh don’t say that darling.” Shockwave stooped to collect Blurr’s pedes from the floor. “A life filled with resentment is a hard one to live.”

 


End file.
